Rain
by Lovingly Insane
Summary: After four years of being separated from his best friend, Kyle has turned into a bitter person. Can a single chat bring Stan and him together again?


Kyle sat on the pavement behind the school; it was freezing and dark from the rain. He shivered, feeling chills run up and down his spine. It was nearing midnight but he still didn't have the heart to return home.

"_You're both bitchy, controlling assholes!" he had screeched, glaring icily at his parents._

"_Kyle!" his mother shrieked, her large emerald eyes burning. "How dare you speak to your parents like that!"_

"_I don't care if you're my parents. You treat me like a little kid, but not even; you treat me like an animal! All I hear is 'Kyle, do this,' 'Kyle, help your brother,' 'Kyle, do that.' I'm not a fucking pack mule! I have fucking emotions, which you've never seemed to notice." _

"_You little bastard!" his father roared, putting his arm around his now sobbing wife. "I can't believe you're saying this! We've spent all of our time and all of our money to raise you right! We let you live in our house! You've been treated like fucking __**royalty!**__"_

"_So, being treated like royalty means being worked to the __**bone?**__ You've spent all of your money on me? __**Bull. Shit. **__Even penny you've earned has gone to Ike. He's the one you've spent all of your money on. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if my collage fund was used on his new Xbox360! God, I hate you both! You don't care about __**anything I have to say!**__" _

"_Get out of my house!" his father boomed. _

"_Fine!" He threw himself out the door and slammed it, not noticing the small paper that was wedged between the frame flutter silently to the floor. _

"Oh, fuck," he muttered to himself, leaning onto the brick wall of the high school harder, as if he were trying to sink into it. What had he gotten himself into? He was homeless now- no, he was more than homeless. He had virtually been kicked out of his house.

"I'm alone," he realized. "I'm totally fucking alone."

This was completely true. Kyle was seventeen now, two months from graduating high school, and now homeless. At the start of freshman year Stan had joined the football team, Cartman was on the debate team, and Kenny seemed to slip into the position of being the school man-whore. This left Kyle with no friends and forced him into the stereotypical 'loner' tag. Now that his family was gone, he was really and truly alone.

"Fuck!" he screamed, banging his fists on the wet pavement like a child. Tears of loneliness and rage shot down his cheeks, reddening his brilliant emerald eyes and staining his cream colored cheeks pink. Suddenly, he realized how cold his was. His dark green tee, thin black jacket, faded skinny jeans and converse really didn't supply much warmth. He wrapped his jacket tighter around his thin body. _Pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft. _ Kyle jumped at the sudden footsteps. He sunk into the wall, enclosing himself in darkness and watching as a tall, muscular figure appeared around the corner. The person slid down on the wall, sitting against it with its head in its hands.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid…" The voice belonged to a man. It was familiar. It was breathtaking. It was Stan. Kyle gasped, causing Stan to look up. "Hello?"

Kyle emerged out of the shadows, scooting closer to Stan. His eyes were wide as they scanned the other, seeing his former best friend. Stan _looked _like a football player. His shoulders were broad, his chin square and jutting out, and his sparkling ocean eyes fierce. "Hello, Stan."

"Kyle!" Stan breathed, staring at the other. Kyle's wild, curly, stunning red hair, which usually adorned a green earflap hat, was sticking up in all directions; it was stained auburn from the rain. His large green eyes sparkled, though Stan could see the remnants of forgotten tears drying on his pale face. Kyle was skinny, skinner than he'd ever been. Nearly anorexic.

Kyle took out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. He held out the pack to the other boy; Stan accepted, lighting up and taking a large drag.

"So," Kyle muttered, closing his eyes. "How's life?"

Bitterly chuckling, Stan gazed into the night sky. "Shitty. How about you?"

Kyle shook his head, smirking. "You don't want to know."

Stan stared as Kyle took a long drag and slowly exhaled; the line of smoke curled in a spiral as it exited his full lips and spun towards the clouds. The scene brought chills to his spine. Kyle was truly gorgeous in the pale moonlight. "I think I do."

"It's worse than shitty," Kyle snapped, his eyes staying closed.

"I know what you mean," Stan said, grinning sadistically. "Me, too."

Kyle's eyes snapped open. A glare of daggers shot at Stan, expressing massive distaste. "You think you know what I'm talking about?" Stan, cocking his head in shock, was about to say something, but the smaller boy cut him off. "You think you know how fucking terrible my life is? You think, for even a second, that your superstar-popularity based lifestyle compares to mine? You think you know that my life is hell on earth times 30? Fuck you, Stan. Fuck you for abandoning me the first time 'popular' came into your mind. Fuck you for having everything I don't. I grew to _hate_ you, you know that? Fuck it all." Kyle ended his rant and stood up, aiming to walk away.

"Kyle!"

He turned around, his face emotionless. Stan rushed up to him, grabbing him by his skinny forearms. When did he become so cold, so lifeless? "Yes, Stan?"

Stan got closer. "Remember that day, at Stark's Pond?" Kyle's expression didn't waver. "Remember? Please, please, remember. We sat there all day, talking about nothing. Kyle, I miss that. I miss you. I…I tried to call you yesterday. You didn't pick up, so I left a note in your door. I feel so stu- I'm sorry for abandoning you, Kyle. Popularity is anything, _anything _but a superstar lifestyle. I'd rather be with my best, well, I guess _former_ best friend." His voice cracked, but he saw the bitter young man's eyes melt. Perfect.

"Kyle, I l-love you," he blurted, shutting his eyes. _Ohgodohgodohgod, oh dear fucking god, what did I just do?_ He thought, biting his lip.

Wait, _what? _Kyle was taken aback.

He had fallen for Stan back in the 7th grade. When Stan stopped hanging around him, he'd assumed that he had found out and been disgusted…and Stan was in love with him? Oh, Jesus. God damn it.

"W-what?" Kyle needed to be sure; no room for mistakes.

"Kyle, I love you," Stan repeated with a strong voice, no stutter. He needed to say this.

"I…you're messing with me, right?"

"No," Stan mumbled, blushing and looking down. He was hurt. "I guess I thought…never mind." He turned to go, the rain pattering like an anticipating drum roll around him.

"Stan, wait!"

He turned and Kyle pressed his lips to the other man's.

Kissing in the rain. How perfect, how clique… The two (former) best friends, one homeless, one scared out of his wits, together, together. Perfection.

_Hm. Maybe being homeless isn't so bad…._


End file.
